Triumph
by His Majesty the Emperor
Summary: Sidious revels in his triumph.


Triumph

Star Wars is the Property of George Lucas and Lucasfilms. I am making no money off of this.

WARNING: I have decided to rate this story T just to err on the side of caution. If you do not like short stories that involve descriptions of death and destruction, please exit this story immediately.

Revenge.

After a millennia of plotting and hiding, the Sith had finally exacted their revenge upon the hated Jedi. Sidious sat in his office, a death's head grin plastered on his deformed face as he soaked in his glorious triumph. Across the galaxy, he could sense his enemies being cut down, one by one. He could sense the pain, the fear, the despair, and the loss hemorrhaging from the Force like blood from a gaping wound. If most people had been gifted with the Force as Sidious had, and had sensed the anguish and fear flashing up across the galaxy, they would have fallen to their knees in horror and wept at the injustice of it all. But Sidious was not most people. To him, this revenge was like a fine wine. Aged over centuries to perfection and sweet to the taste. He had waited his entire life for this moment, and he was not disappointed.

But deep down, there was a small part of Sidious that knew he was missing something. It wasn't nearly enough to have been the cause of his enemies' destruction. If Sidious was to truly relish this moment, to truly savor it, then he _needed_ to experience it up close and personal. And so, against the vehement protest of his guards and advisors, he traveled to the Jedi Temple.

To sense the carnage and destruction from the comfort of his office was one thing. To actually witness it with his own eyes was something else. Most people would have been saddened by the destruction being wrought on this fortress of solitude, and fearful of what may happen next. Sidious was not most people. As he roamed the halls of his enemies' fortress, Sidious took in the smoke and the billowing infernos that threatened to consume the Temple. In the distance, if he listened hard enough, he could hear the screams of the dying over the wine of lightsabers and blasters.

It was like beautiful music to his ears.

Outwardly, Sidious was composed and calm, taking in the chaos around him with what appeared to be a dispassionate gaze. Inwardly, The Dark Lord of the Sith felt like a child in a candy store. The destroyed statues, the floor littered with corpses and debris, the feeling of misery and betrayal hanging in the air like the smoke. This was a result of his long years of toil. The culmination of the Order of the Sith Lords thousand year Grand Plan. And he, Darth Sidious, was the one who had carried it to fruition. Yes, victory was indeed sweet to the taste.

As Sidious became lost in thought, celebrating his hard won victory, he came across _something_. He found, lying on the floor, a group of about a dozen Jedi younglings, all of them dead. Upon seeing recently murdered children, most people would recoil in horror. Most people would break into tears. Most people would scream to whatever deity they believed in, begging them to smite the monsters responsible for this travesty and have them cast down into eternal damnation. Sidious was not most people. Instead, his lips curled into something that could have been called a smile. But this smile lacked any sense of warmth or joviality. This was the smile of a predator triumphant. Here lay his enemies' future, the future that could have been, dead at his feet. He looked down upon them and briefly wondered how they met their grisly fate. Then, he noticed a slash mark on one of their chests. Ahh, Vader's handiwork.

As Sidious was about to turn away he heard a whimper of pain. Or was it fear? Maybe both? Looking down, he saw that one of the younglings was still _alive_. She couldn't have been more than nine years old. Not even a Padawan. Sidious absentmindedly noted the blaster wound in her right shoulder. The clones were getting sloppy, he thought.

Most people would instantly try and help this poor wretch of a child, Sidious mused. Most people would try and ease the pain while uttering calming sentiments to the tune that everything was going to be okay and that she would be fine.

Sidious was not most people.

Instead he looked down upon her with the same type of dispassionate interest most people would hold for an insect skittering about on the ground before it was crushed beneath his boot. The child was sobbing, the pain and fear overwhelming years of Jedi mental training. Sidious smiled. It was the smile of a devil. It was the smile of evil incarnate.

"There, there, my child." Whispered Sidious, adopting the voice of Palpatine, calm, kind, and grandfatherly in nature. "Soon you shall cry no more."

Such a contrast was this. He sounded so, _nice_. Yet his face, his cruel, sneering face was the face of a monster.

The face of malevolence itself.

The child was confused. She did not recognize him as the Chancellor, but the Force screamed danger. "please sir" she began, hoping against hope that the Force was wrong, that this man could maybe, just maybe, help her. What hope she had left died as a blade of crimson hissed to life.

With a single hacking motion, it was over.

As the light left the child's eyes, Sidious felt invigorated with triumph. Today was a great day, he thought to himself. As Sidious left the child and her companions behind, he traveled the halls of the Temple, making his way to the Archives. As he walked he reveled in his hatred, praised the Darkside for his victory, and celebrated his glorious conquest.

Let the Light and it's followers howl in despair, thought Sidious, for the Rule of Palpatine and the Age of Darkness had finally begun.


End file.
